UC-NRLF 


B    3    57T    MAT 


HYMNS  OF  THE 
MARSHES 


SIDNEY 
LANIER 


HYMNS  OF  THE  MARSHES 


HYMNS  OF  THE  MARSHES 


HYMNS  OF  THE  MARSHES 


.■*■%■ 


H 
OF  THE  MARSHES 


BY 

SIDNEY  LANIER 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM  NATURE  BY  HENRY  TROTH 


CHARLES  SCRIBNERS 
NEW  YORK         .        MCMXI1 


Look  how  the  grace  of  the  sea  doth  go 
About  and  about  through  the  intricate  channels  that  flow 
Here  and  there, 
Everywhere, 


ojj  took  im  ss\i  \o  'iOtna  "*i\i    . 
,vnto  bnc  ^a^H 


HYMNS 
OF  THE  MARSHES 


BY 

SIDNEY  LANIER 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM  NATURE  BY  HENRY  TROTH 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK         .        MCMXII 


U*7 


■ 


c^^ 


~\ 


The  Poems  of  Sidney  Lanier 
Copyright,  1884,  1891,  by  Mary  D.  Laniei 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


THE    DE  VINNE    PRESS 


HYMNS  OF  THE  MARSHES 

PAGE 

SUNRISE 3 

INDIVIDUALITY 29 

MARSH  SONG— AT  SUNSET      .  .  .  .41 

THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN         ....         45 


273383 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


From  photographs  taken  near  Brunswick,  Georgia,  where  the  poet 
derived  his  inspiration  for  the  Hymns  of  the  Marshes 


Look  how  the  grace  of  the  sea  doth  go 
About  and  about  through  the  intricate  channels  that  flow 
Here  and  there, 

Everywhere,  Frontispiece 

„      .       .        o     ,.  ,    .  „     .  FACING  PAGE 

In  my  sleep  I  was  fain  of  their  fellowship,  fain 
Of  the  live-oak,  the  marsh,  and  the  main.  4 

My  gossip,  the  owl, — is  it  thou 
That  out  of  the  leaves  of  the  low-hanging  bough, 
As  I  pass  to  the  beach,  art  stirred? 

Dumh. woods,  have  ye  uttered  a  bird?  10 

And  look  where  the  wild  duck  sails  round  the  bend  of 

the  river, —  14 

And  look  where  a  passionate  shiver 
Expectant  is  bending  the  blades 
Of  the  marsh-grass  in  serial  shimmers  and  shades, —  20 

Sail  on,  sail  on,  fair  cousin  Cloud: 

Oh  loiter  hither  from  the  sea.  32 

Over  the  monstrous  shambling  sea,  42 

Glooms  of  the  live-oaks,  beautiful-braided  and  woven 
With  intricate  shades  of  the  vines  that  myriad-cloven 

Clamber  the  forks  of  the  multiform  boughs, —  46 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Of  ,he  dim  swee.  woods,  of  .he  dear  da*  woods,  "™ 

Of  the  heavenly  woods  and  glades, 

50 
Affable  live-oak,  leaning  low,— 

Sinuous  southward  and  sinuous  northward  the 

shimmering  band  marsh 

Of  the  sand-beach  fastens  the  fringe  of  the  marsh  ^ 

to  the  folds  of  the  land. 

A  ,eague  and  a  .eague  of  marsh-grass,  wais.-high,  hroad 

Greenland  au'ol  a  heigh,,  and  unneeked  with  a  Ugh.  or 
a  shade, 

And  the  marsh  is  meshed  with  a  million  veins 

That  like  as  with  rosy  and  silvery  essences  flow  56 

In  the  rose-and-silver  evening  glow. 


viii 


HYMNS  OF  THE  MARSHES 


SUNRISE 


In  my  sleep  I  was  fain  of  their  fellowship,  fain 

Of  the  live-oak,  the  marsh,  and  the  main. 
The  little  green  leaves  would  not  let  me  alone  in  my 

sleep ; 
Up-breathed  from  the  marshes,  a  message  of  range  and 

of  sweep, 
Interwoven  with  waftures  of  wild  sea-liberties,  drifting, 
Came  through  the  lapped  leaves  sifting,  sifting, 
Came  to  the  gates  of  sleep. 
C3] 


In  my  sleep  1  was  fain  of  their  fellowship,  fain 
Of  the  live-oak,  the  marsh,  and  the  main. 


SUNRISE 


Then  my  thoughts,  in  the  dark  of  the  dungeon-keep 
Of  the  Castle  of  Captives  hid  in  the  City  of  Sleep, 
Upstarted,  by  twos  and  by  threes  assembling: 

The  gates  of  sleep  fell  a-trembling 
Like  as  the  lips  of  a  lady  that  forth  falter  yes, 
Shaken  with  happiness : 
The  gates  of  sleep  stood  wide. 

I  have  waked,  I  have  come,  my  beloved!  I  might  not 

abide: 
I  have  come  ere  the  dawn,  O  beloved,  my  live-oaks,  to 

hide 
In  your  gospelling  glooms, — to  be 
As  a  lover  in  heaven,  the  marsh  my  marsh  and  the  sea 

my  sea. 

Tell  me,  sweet  burly-bark' d,  man-bodied  Tree 
That  mine  arms  in  the  dark  are  embracing,  dost  know 
From  what  fount  are  these  tears  at  thy  feet  which  flow  ? 
[5] 


SUNRISE 


They  rise  not  from  reason,  but  deeper  inconsequent 

deeps. 

Reason  's  not  one  that  weeps. 
What  logic  of  greeting  lies 
Betwixt  dear  over-beautiful  trees  and  the  rain  of  the 

eyes? 

O  cunning  green  leaves,  little  masters !  like  as  ye  gloss 
All  the  dull-tissued  dark  with  your  luminous  darks  that 

emboss 
The  vague  blackness  of  night  into  pattern  and  plan, 
So, 
(But  would  I  could  know,  but  would  I  could  know,) 
With  your  question  embroid'ring  the  dark  of  the  ques- 
tion of  man, — 
So,  with  your  silences  purfling  this  silence  of  man 
While  his  cry  to  the  dead  for  some  knowledge  is  under 
the  ban, 

Under  the  ban, — 
C7] 


SUNRISE 


So,  ye  have  wrought  me 
Designs  on  the  night  of  our  knowledge, — yea,  ye  have 
taught  me, 
So, 
That  haply  we  know  somewhat  more  than  we  know. 

Ye  lispers,  whisperers,  singers  in  storms, 
Ye  consciences  murmuring  faiths  under  forms, 
Ye  ministers  meet  for  each  passion  that  grieves, 
Friendly,  sisterly,  sweetheart  leaves, 
Oh,  rain  me  down  from  your  darks  that  contain  me 
Wisdoms  ye  winnow  from  winds  that  pain  me, — 
Sift  down  tremors  of  sweet-within-sweet 
That  advise  me  of  more  than  they  bring, — repeat 
Me  the  woods-smell  that  swiftly  but  now  brought  breath 
From  the  heaven-side  bank  of  the  river  of  death, — 
Teach  me  the  terms  of  silence, — preach  me 
The  passion  of  patience, — sift  me, — impeach  me, — 
And  there,  oh  there 


My  gossip,  the  owl, — is  it  thou 
That  out  of  the  leaves  of  the  low-hanging  bough, 
As  I  pass  to  the  beach,  art  stirred  ? 
Dumb  woods,  have  ye  uttered  a  bird? 


SUNRISE 


As  ye  hang  with  your  myriad  palms  upturned  in  the  air, 
Pray  me  a  myriad  prayer. 

My  gossip,  the  owl, — is  it  thou 
That  out  of  the  leaves  of  the  low-hanging  bough, 
As  I  pass  to  the  beach,  art  stirred? 
Dumb  woods,  have  ye  uttered  a  bird? 

Reverend  Marsh,  low-couched  along  the  sea, 

Old  chemist,  rapt  in  alchemy, 
Distilling  silence, — lo, 
That  which  our  father-age  had  died  to  know — 

The  menstruum  that  dissolves  all  matter — thou 
Hast  found  it;  for  this  silence,  filling  now 
The  globed  clarity  of  receiving  space, 
This  solves  us  all :  man,  matter,  doubt,  disgrace, 
Death,  love,  sin,  sanity, 
Must  in  yon  silence'  clear  solution  lie. 
Too  clear!     That  crystal  nothing  who  '11  peruse? 
[11] 


SUNRISE 


The  blackest  night  could  bring  us  brighter  news. 
Yet  precious  qualities  of  silence  haunt 
Round  these  vast  margins,  ministrant. 
Oh.  if  thy  soul 's  at  latter  gasp  for  space, 
I  With  trying  to  breathe  no  bigger  than  thy  race 
Just  to  be  fellow'd,  when  that  thou  hast  found 
No  man  with  room,  or  grace  enough  of  bound 
To  entertain  that  New  thou  tell'st,  thou  art, — 
T  is  here,  't  is  here  thou  canst  unhand  thy  heart 
And  breathe  it  free,  and  breathe  it  free, 
By  rangy  marsh,  in  lone  sea-liberty. 

The  tide  's  at  full :  the  marsh  with  flooded  streams 

Glimmers,  a  limpid  labyrinth  of  dreams. 

Each  winding  creek  in  grave  entrancement  lies 

A  rhapsody  of  morning-stars.    The  skies 

Shine  scant  with  one  forked  galaxy,— 

The  marsh  brags  ten :  looped  on  his  breast  they  lie. 


[13] 


And  look  where  the  wild  duck  sails  round  the  bend  of 
the  river, — 


SUNRISE 


Oh,  what  if  a  sound  should  be  made! 

Oh,  what  if  a  bound  should  be  laid 

To  this  bow-and-string  tension  of  beauty  and  silence 

a-spring, — 
To  the  bend  of  beauty  the  bow,  or  the  hold  of  silence  the 

string ! 
I  fear  me,  I  fear  me  yon  dome  of  diaphanous  gleam 
Will  break  as  a  bubble  o'er-blown  in  a  dream, — 
Yon  dome  of  too-tenuous  tissues  of  space  and  of  night, 
Over-weighted  with  stars,  over-freighted  with  light, 
Over-sated  with  beauty  and  silence,  will  seem 

But  a  bubble  that  broke  in  a  dream, 
If  a  bound  of  degree  to  this  grace  be  laid, 

Or  a  sound  or  a  motion  made. 

But  no:  it  is  made:  list!  somewhere,— mystery,  where? 

In  the  leaves?  in  the  air? 
In  my  heart?  is  a  motion  made; 
T  is  a  motion  of  dawn,  like  a  flicker  of  shade  on  shade, 


SUNRISE 


In  the  leaves,  't  is  palpable:  low  multitudinous  stirring 
Upwinds  through  the  woods;  the  little  ones,  softly 

conferring, 
Have  settled  my  lord  's  to  be  looked  for;  so ;  they 

are  still ; 
But  the  air  and  my  heart  and  the  earth  are  a-thrill, — 
And  look  where  the  wild  duck  sails  round  the  bend  of 
the  river, — 
And  look  where  a  passionate  shiver 
Expectant  is  bending  the  blades 
Of  the  marsh-grass  in  serial  shimmers  and  shades, — 
And  invisible  wings,  fast  fleeting,  fast  fleeting, 

Are  beating 
The  dark  overhead  as  my  heart  beats, — and  steady  and 

free 
Is  the  ebb-tide  flowing  from  marsh  to  sea — 
(Run  home,  little  streams, 
With  your  lapfuls  of  stars  and  dreams), — 
And  a  sailor  unseen  is  hoisting  a-peak, 
[173 


SUNRISE 


For  list,  down  the  inshore  curve  of  the  creek 

How  merrily  flutters  the  sail, — 
And  lo,  in  the  East!  Will  the  East  unveil? 
The  East  is  unveiled,  the  East  hath  confessed 
A  flush;  't  is  dead;  't  is  alive;  't  is  dead,  ere  the  West 
Was  aware  of  it;  nay,  't  is  abiding,  't  is  unwithdrawn: 
Have  a  care,  sweet  Heaven !  T  is  Dawn. 

Now  a  dream  of  a  flame  through  that  dream  of  a  flush 
is  uprolled ; 

To  the  zenith  ascending,  a  dome  of  undazzling  gold 
Is  builded,  in  shape  as  a  bee-hive,  from  out  of  the  sea ; 
The  hive  is  of  gold  undazzling,  but  oh,  the  Bee, 

The  star-fed  Bee,  the  build-fire  Bee, 

Of  dazzling  gold  is  the  great  Sun-Bee 
That  shall  flash  from  the  hive-hole  over  the  sea. 

Yet  now  the  dew-drop,  now  the  morning  gray, 
Shall  live  their  little  lucid  sober  day 


And  look  where  a  passionate  shiver 
Expectant  is  bending  the  blades 
Of  the  marsh-grass  in  serial  shimmers  and  shades, 


SUNRISE 


Ere  with  the  sun  their  souls  exhale  away. 
Now  in  each  pettiest  personal  sphere  of  dew 
The  summ'd  morn  shines  complete  as  in  the  blue 
Big  dew-drop  of  all  heaven ;  with  these  lit  shrines 
O'er-silvered  to  the  farthest  sea-confines, 
The  sacramental  marsh  one  pious  plain 
Of  worship  lies.    Peace  to  the  ante-reign 
Of  Mary  Morning,  blissful  mother  mild, 
Minded  of  nought  but  peace,  and  of  a  child. 
Not  slower  than  Majesty  moves,  for  a  mean  and  a 

measure 
Of  motion,— not  faster  than  dateless  Olympian  leisure 
Might  pace  with  unblown  ample  garments  from  pleas- 
ure to  pleasure, — 
The  wave-serrate  sea-rim  sinks  unjarring,  unreeling, 

Forever  revealing,  revealing,  revealing, 
Edgewise,  bladewise,  halfwise,  wholewise, — 't  is  done! 

Good-morrow,  lord  Sun ! 
With  several  voice,  with  ascription  one, 

C2in 


SUNRISE 


The  woods  and  the  marsh  and  the  sea  and  my  soul 
Unto  thee,  whence  the  glittering  stream  of  all  morrows 

doth  roll, 
Cry  good  and  past-good  and  most  heavenly  morrow, 

lord  Sun. 

O  Artisan  born  in  the  purple,— Workman  Heat, — 
Parter  of  passionate  atoms  that  travail  to  meet 
And  be  mixed  in  the  death-cold  oneness, — innermost 

Guest 
At  the  marriage  of  elements, — fellow  of  publicans, — 

blest 
King  in  the  blouse  of  flame,  that  loiterest  o'er 
The  idle  skies  yet  laborest  fast  evermore, — 
Thou,  in  the  fine  forge-thunder,  thou,  in  the  beat 
Of  the  heart  of  a  man,  thou  Motive, — Laborer  Heat: 
Yea,  Artist,  thou,  of  whose  art  yon  sea  's  all  news, 
With  his  inshore  greens  and  manifold  mid-sea  blues, 
Pearl-glint,  shell-tint,  ancientest  perfectest  hues 
C233 


SUNRISE 


Ever  shaming  the  maidens,— lily  and  rose 
Confess  thee,  and  each  mild  flame  that  glows 
In  the  clarified  virginal  bosoms  of  stones  that  shine, 
It  is  thine,  it  is  thine: 

Thou  chemist  of  storms,  whether  driving  the  winds 

a-swirl 
Or  a-flicker  the  subtiler  essences  polar  that  whirl 
In  the  magnet  earth,— yea,  thou  with  a  storm  for  a  heart, 
Rent  with  debate,  many-spotted  with  question,  part 
From  part  oft  sundered,  yet  ever  a  globed  light, 
Yet  ever  the  artist,  ever  more  large  and  bright 
Than  the  eye  of  a  man  may  avail  of: — manifold  One, 
I  must  pass  from  thy  face,  I  must  pass  from  the  face  of 

the  Sun ; 

Old  Want  is  awake  and  agog,  every  wrinkle  a-f  rown ; 

The  worker  must  pass  to  his  work  in  the  terrible  town ; 

But  I  fear  not,  nay,  and  I  fear  not  the  thing  to  be  done ; 

I  am  strong  with  the  strength  of  my  lord  the  Sun; 

[253 


SUNRISE 


How  dark,  how  dark  soever  the  race  that  must  needs  be 
run, 

I  am  lit  with  the  sun. 

Oh,  never  the  mast-high  run  of  the  seas 

Of  traffic  shall  hide  thee, 
Never  the  hell-colored  smoke  of  the  factories 

Hide  thee, 
Never  the  reek  of  the  time's  fen-politics 

Hide  thee, 
And  ever  my  heart  through  the  night  shall  with  know- 
ledge abide  thee, 
And  ever  by  day  shall  my  spirit,  as  one  that  hath  tried 
thee, 
Labor,  at  leisure,  in  art, — till  yonder  beside  thee 
My  soul  shall  float,  friend  Sun, 
The  day  being  done. 

Baltimore,  December,  1880. 


£27] 


II 

INDIVIDUALITY 

Sail  on,  sail  on,  fair  cousin  Cloud: 
Oh  loiter  hither  from  the  sea. 

Still-eyed  and  shadow-brow'd, 
Steal  off  from  yon  far-drifting  crowd, 
And  come  and  brood  upon  the  marsh  with  me. 


Yon  laboring  low  horizon-smoke, 
Yon  stringent  sail,  toil  not  for  thee 
Nor  me;  did  heaven's  stroke 
[29] 


INDIVIDUALITY 


The  whole  deep  with  drown'd  commerce  choke, 
No  pitiless  tease  of  risk  or  bottomry 

Would  to  thy  rainy  office  close 

Thy  will,  or  lock  mine  eyes  from  tears, 

Part  wept  for  traders'-woes, 

Part  for  that  ventures  mean  as  those 

In  issue  bind  such  sovereign  hopes  and  fears. 

■\ 
— Lo,  Cloud,  thy  downward  countenance  stares 

Blank  on  the  blank-faced  marsh,  and  thou 

Mindest  of  dark  affairs; 

Thy  substance  seems  a  warp  of  cares; 

Like  late  wounds  run  the  wrinkles  on  thy  brow. 

Well  may'st  thou  pause,  and  gloom,  and  stare, 
A  visible  conscience :  I  arraign 

Thee,  criminal  Cloud,  of  rare 
Contempts  on  Mercy,  Right,  and  Prayer,— 
Of  murders,  arsons,  thefts, — of  nameless  stain 
C31] 


Sail  on,  sail  on,  fair  cousin  Cloud: 
Oh  loiter  hither  from  the  sea. 


■■■ 


INDIVIDUALITY 


(Yet  though  life's  logic  grow  as  gray 
As  thou,  my  soul 's  not  in  eclipse.) 

Cold  Cloud,  but  yesterday 
Thy  lightning  slew  a  child  at  play, 
And  then  a  priest  with  prayers  upon  his  lips 

For  his  enemies,  and  then  a  bright 
Lady  that  did  but  ope  the  door 
Upon  the  storming  night 
To  let  a  beggar  in, — strange  spite, — 
And  then  thy  sulky  rain  refused  to  pour 

Till  thy  quick  torch  a  barn  had  burned 
Where  twelve  months'  store  of  victual  lay, 

A  widow's  sons  had  earned; 
Which  done,  thy  floods  with  winds  returned,- 
The  river  raped  their  little  herd  away. 

What  myriad  righteous  errands  high 
Thy  flames  might  run  on !    In  that  hour 
C333 


INDIVIDUALITY 


Thou  slewest  the  child,  oh  why 
Not  rather  slay  Calamity, 
Breeder  of  Pain  and  Doubt,  infernal  Power? 

Or  why  not  plunge  thy  blades  about 
Some  maggot  politician  throng 

Swarming  to  parcel  out 
The  body  of  a  land,  and  rout 
The  maw-conventicle,  and  ungorge  Wrong? 

What  the  cloud  doeth 
The  Lord  knoweth, 
The  cloud  knoweth  not. 
What  the  artist  doeth, 
The  Lord  knoweth; 
Knoweth  the  artist  not? 

Well-answered!— O  dear  artists,  ye 
— Whether  in  forms  of  curve  or  hue 
[35] 


INDIVIDUALITY 


Or  tone  your  gospels  be — 
Say  wrong  This  work  is  not  of  me, 
But  God:  it  is  not  true,  it  is  not  true. 

Awful  is  Art  because  't  is  free. 
The  artist  trembles  o'er  his  plan 

Where  men  his  Self  must  see. 
Who  made  a  song  or  picture,  he 
Did  it,  and  not  another,  God  nor  man. 

My  Lord  is  large,  my  Lord  is  strong: 
Giving,  He  gave:  my  me  is  mine. 

How  poor,  how  strange,  how  wrong, 
To  dream  He  wrote  the  little  song 
I  made  to  Him  with  love's  unforced  design! 

Oh,  not  as  clouds  dim  laws  have  plann'd 
To  strike  down  Good  and  fight  for  111,— 

Oh,  not  as  harps  that  stand 
In  the  wind  and  sound  the  wind's  command: 
Each  artist— gift  of  terror '.-owns  his  will. 
C371 


INDIVIDUALITY 


For  thee,  Cloud, — if  thou  spend  thine  all 
Upon  the  South's  o'er-brimming  sea 

That  needs  thee  not ;  or  crawl 
To  the  dry  provinces,  and  fall 
Till  every  convert  clod  shall  give  to  thee 

Green  worship ;  if  thou  grow  or  fade, 
Bring  on  delight  or  misery, 

Fly  east  or  west,  be  made 
Snow,  hail,  rain,  wind,  grass,  rose,  light,  shade; 
What  matters  it  to  thee?    There  is  no  thee. 

Pass,  kinsman  Cloud,  now  fair  and  mild: 
Discharge  the  will  that 's  not  thine  own. 

I  work  in  freedom  wild, 
But  work,  as  plays  a  little  child, 
Sure  of  the  Father,  Self,  and  Love,  alone. 

Baltimore,  1878-9. 

[39] 


Ill 

MARSH  SONG— AT  SUNSET 

OVER  the  monstrous  shambling  sea, 

Over  the  Caliban  sea, 
Bright  Ariel-cloud,  thou  lingerest; 
Oh  wait,  oh  wait,  in  the  warm  red  West, — 

Thy  Prospero  I  '11  be. 


Over  the  humped  and  fishy  sea, 

Over  the  Caliban  sea 
O  cloud  in  the  West,  like  a  thought  in  the  heart 
[41] 


Over  the  monstrous  shambling  sea, 


MARSH  SONG— AT  SUNSET 


Of  pardon,  loose  thy  wing,  and  start, 
And  do  a  grace  for  me. 

Over  the  huge  and  huddling  sea, 

Over  the  Caliban  sea, 
Bring  hither  my  brother  Antonio, — Man,- 
My  injurer;  night  breaks  the  ban: 

Brother,  I  pardon  thee. 

> 

Baltimore,  1879-80. 


IV 

THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


GLOOMS  of  the  live-oaks,  beautiful-braided  and  woven 
With  intricate  shades  of  the  vines  that  myriad-cloven 
Clamber  the  forks  of  the  multiform  boughs,— 
Emerald  twilights,— 
Virginal  shy  lights, 
Wrought  of  the  leaves  to  allure  to  the  whisper  of  vows, 
When  lovers  pace  timidly  down  through  the  green 

colonnades 
Of  the  dim  sweet  woods,  of  the  dear  dark  woods, 
Of  the  heavenly  woods  and  glades, 
[45] 


Glooms  of  the  live-oaks,  beautiful-braided  and  woven 
With  intricate  shades  of  the  vines  that  myriad-cloven 
Clamber  the  forks  of  the  multiform  boughs, — 


St 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


That  run  to  the  radiant  marginal  sand-beach  within 
The  wide  sea-marshes  of  Glynn; — 

Beautiful  glooms,  soft  dusks  in  the  noon-day  fire, — 

Wildwood  privacies,  closets  of  lone  desire, 

Chamber  from  chamber  parted  with  wavering  arras  of 

leaves,— 
Cells  for  the  passionate  pleasure  of  prayer  to  the  soul 

that  grieves, 
Pure  with  a  sense  of  the  passing  of  saints  through  the 

wood, 
Cool  for  the  dutiful  weighing  of  ill  with  good; — 

0  braided  dusks  of  the  oak  and  woven  shades  of  the 

vine 
While  the  riotous  noon-day  sun  of  the  June-day  long 

did  shine 
Ye  held  me  fast  in  your  heart  and  I  held  you  fast  in 

mine; 

[47;] 


Of  the  dim  sweet  woods,  of  the  dear  dark  woods, 
Of  the  heavenly  woods  and  glades, 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


But  now  when  the  noon  is  no  more,  and  riot  is  rest, 
And  the  sun  is  a-wait  at  the  ponderous  gate  of  the  West, 
And  the  slant  yellow  beam  down  the  wood-aisle  doth 

seem 
Like  a  lane  into  heaven  that  leads  from  a  dream, — 
Ay,  now,  when  my  soul  all  day  hath  drunken  the  soul 

of  the  oak, 
And  my  heart  is  at  ease  from  men,  and  the  wearisome 

sound  of  the  stroke 
Of  the  scythe  of  time  and  the  trowel  of  trade  is  low, 
And  belief  overmasters  doubt,  and  I  know  that  I 

know, 
And  my  spirit  is  grown  to  a  lordly  great  compass 

within, 
That  the  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  sweep  of  the 

marshes  of  Glynn 
Will  work  me  no  fear  like  the  fear  they  have  wrought 

me  of  yore 
When  length  was  fatigue,  and  when  breadth  was  but 

bitterness  sore, 

[493 


Affable  live-oak,  leaning  low,- 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


And  when  terror  and  shrinking  and  dreary  unnamable 

pain 
Drew  over  me  out  of  the  merciless  miles  of  the  plain, — 

Oh,  now,  unafraid,  I  am  fain  to  face 
The  vast  sweet  visage  of  space. 
To  the  edge  of  the  wood  I  am  drawn,  I  am  drawn, 
Where  the  gray  beach  glimmering  runs,  as  a  belt  of 
the  dawn, 
For  a  mete  and  a  mark 
To  the  forest-dark : — 
So: 
Affable  live-oak,  leaning  low, — 
Thus — with  your  favor— soft,  with  a  reverent  hand, 
(Not  lightly  touching  your  person,  Lord  of  the  land!) 
Bending  your  beauty  aside,  with  a  step  I  stand 
On  the  firm-packed  sand, 

Free 
By  a  world  of  marsh  that  borders  a  world  of  sea. 
[51] 


Sinuous  southward  and  sinuous  northward  the 

shimmering  band 
Of  the  sand-beach  fastens  the  fringe  of  the  marsh 

to  the  folds  of  the  land. 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


Sinuous  southward  and  sinuous  northward  the 

shimmering  band 
Of  the  sand-beach  fastens  the  fringe  of  the  marsh 

to  the  folds  of  the  land. 
Inward  and  outward  to  northward  and  southward  the 

beach-lines  linger  and  curl 
As  a  silver-wrought  garment  that  clings  to  and  follows 

the  firm  sweet  limbs  of  a  girl. 
Vanishing,  swerving,  evermore  curving  again  into  sight, 
Softly  the  sand-beach  wavers  away  to  a  dim  gray  loop- 
ping  of  light. 
And  what  if  behind  me  to  westward  the  wall  of  the 

woods  stands  high  ? 
The  world  lies  east:  how  ample,  the  marsh  and  the  sea 

and  the  sky! 
A  league  and  a  league  of  marsh-grass,  waist-high,  broad 

in  the  blade, 
Green,  and  all  of  a  height,  and  unflecked  with  a  light  or 

a  shade, 

£53  3 


A  league  and  a  league  of  marsh-grass,  waist-high,  broad 

in  the  blade, 
Green,  and  all  of  a  height,  and  unflecked  with  a  light  or 

a  shade, 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


Stretch  leisurely  off,  in  a  pleasant  plain, 
To  the  terminal  blue  of  the  main. 

Oh,  what  is  abroad  in  the  marsh  and  the  terminal  sea? 
Somehow  my  soul  seems  suddenly  free 

From  the  weighing  of  fate  and  the  sad  discussion  of  sin, 

By  the  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  sweep  of  the 
marshes  of  Glynn. 
•\ 

Ye  marshes,  how  candid  and  simple  and  nothing- 
withholding  and  free 

Ye  publish  yourselves  to  the  sky  and  offer  yourselves  to 
the  sea! 

Tolerant  plains,  that  suffer  the  sea  and  the  rains  and  the 
sun, 

Ye  spread  and  span  like  the  catholic  man  who  hath 
mightily  won 

God  out  of  knowledge  and  good  out  of  infinite  pain 

And  sight  out  of  blindness  and  purity  out  of  a  stain. 
[55] 


And  the  marsh  is  meshed  with  a  million  veins, 
That  like  as  with  rosy  and  silvery  essences  flow 
In  the  rose-and-silver  evening  glow. 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


As  the  marsh-hen  secretly  builds  on  the  watery  sod, 
Behold  I  will  build  me  a  nest  on  the  greatness  of  God; 
I  will  fly  in  the  greatness  of  God  as  the  marsh-hen  flies 
In  the  freedom  that  fills  all  the  space  'twixt  the  marsh 

and  the  skies ; 
By  so  many  roots  as  the  marsh-grass  sends  in  the  sod 
I  will  heartily  lay  me  a-hold  on  the  greatness  of  God; 
Oh,  like  to  the  greatness  of  God  is  the  greatness  within 
The  range  of  the  marshes,  the  liberal  marshes  of  Glynn. 

And  the  sea  lends  large,  as  the  marsh ;  lo,  out  of  his 

plenty  the  sea 
Pours  fast:  full  soon  the  time  of  the  flood-tide  must  be; 
Look  how  the  grace  of  the  sea  doth  go 
About  and  about  through  the  intricate  channels  that  flow 
Here  and  there, 
Everywhere, 
Till  his  waters  have  flooded  the  uttermost  creeks  and  the 
low-lying  lanes, 

[573 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


And  the  marsh  is  meshed  with  a  million  veins, 

That  like  as  with  rosy  and  silvery  essences  flow 
In  the  rose-and-silver  evening  glow. 
Farewell,  my  lord  Sun! 

The  creeks  overflow :  a  thousand  rivulets  run 

'Twixt  the  roots  of  the  sod;  the  blades  of  the  marsh- 
grass  stir; 

Passeth  a  hurrying  sound  of  wings  that  westward 
whirr; 

Passeth,  and  all  is  still ;  and  the  currents  cease  to  run ; 

And  the  sea  and  the  marsh  are  one. 

How  still  the  plains  of  the  waters  be! 
The  tide  is  in  his  ecstasy. 
The  tide  is  at  his  highest  height: 
And  it  is  night. 

And  now  from  the  Vast  of  the  Lord  will  the  waters  of 

sleep 
Roll  in  on  the  souls  of  men, 

C59] 


THE  MARSHES  OF  GLYNN 


But  who  will  reveal  to  our  waking  ken 

The  forms  that  swim  and  the  shapes  that  creep 

Under  the  waters  of  sleep? 
And  I  would  I  could  know  what  swimmeth  below  when 

the  tide  comes  in 
On  the  length  and  the  breadth  of  the  marvellous 

marshes  of  Glynn. 


Baltimore,  1878. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 

RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
A      TO—^      202  Main  Library 


m 


LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

1  -month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling  642-3405 

6-month  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books  to  Circulation  D 

Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  due  date 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


OCT  2  5  1979 


j\pft    4 


198C 


Q^AJ^YTftD 


kcgirUun2  i*  t ) 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BE 
FORM  NO.  DD6,  60m,  1  1  /78  BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


<L(  C  C^         n  ^tO. 


y\^> 


s 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


i 


K 


i    e  i  ■ 

if 


■ 


